


A Broken Life

by joytothegirls



Category: West Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joytothegirls/pseuds/joytothegirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She threw the glass before she could stop herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Broken Life

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn’t really take place during any particular season or event in the show… It just sort of popped into my head.

She threw the glass before she could stop herself.

It slammed against the wall and shattered into thousands of pieces. She knew the instant it flew from her hand that it was a bad idea; that there would be a mess to clean up afterwards. But she was so angry that she didn’t care about the repercussions. 

But that was before she saw the shards of broken glass all over the wood flooring of her living room. That was before she let her anger turn into what it truly was. Pain.

She felt pain. She felt the tears coming, and then the sobs. Those endless sobs that wrack your body with heaves and shakes. 

She let her self crumple to the floor, her body falling on top of her crumpled legs. And she cried. And cried. And cried until she was sure there were no more tears left to slide out of her swollen eyes and down her raw cheeks. She curled herself into a ball of sorts, knees up to her chest and hands covering her face. She must have drifted off to sleep, for when her eyes slowly blinked open there was light streaming through the window, the blinds causing alternating streaks of sunlight and shadow to fall upon her where she lay, still on the floor.

She went to get up, head throbbing, when a sharp pain in her foot reminded her of the events of last night. 

She looked down quickly, and saw the red that pooled on the ball of her foot. The glass. It was still scattered on the floor. 

She forced herself to stand, and walked to the bathroom, being sure not to get blood from her foot on the floor. She opened the medicine cabinet and found a tube of Neosporin and a band-aid. She cleaned and treated the cut, and hoped that the band-aid would last longer than they normally do when stuck to odd shaped places of the body. 

She washed her face, trying to erase as much as she could of the streaks left by last night’s tears. She looked up at herself in the mirror, she looked sad.

She took a breath and made her way back to the living room, back to the glass, back to the pain, and she started to clean. 

It was tedious, and she had to be careful not to lean on any more shards of glass. But when she finished she felt better, newer. Maybe, like the broken glass, her life needed some cleaning up. And after the pieces had been carefully picked up off the floor, maybe then could she start to put the pieces of a broken life back together.


End file.
